


That Damn Almond

by CharWright5



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Pack Get Together, Post Series, Risgrynsgröt, Superstitions, Traditions, lol wtf is season six? there is no season six here, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: It was calledRisgrynsgröt, a traditional Swedish Christmas rice porridge featuring a superstition that whomever found the almond hidden inside would be married within the year. It was just too bad for Derek that he was single when he found it in his share of the dessert, as was his crush Stiles, who'd somehow managed to find one of his own.





	That Damn Almond

**Author's Note:**

> For the Twelve Days of Sterek event on Tumblr. Inspired by part of a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie (fight me) called _Christmas Getaway_.

“It's called _Risgrynsgröt_ ,” Lydia began as she stood at command at the top of the long table.

Derek looked up and down the length of it, at the friends he'd made over the years, at the Pack they'd strangely become. They were a hodgepodge of human, wolf, coyote, kitsune, banshee, hellhound, all these various forces and creatures and species that naturally would have nothing to do with one another. But considering all they'd been through over the years, all they'd suffered and endured, they'd become as close as possible, maybe even closer in some cases.

Because as Derek looked at everyone seated along the long table, at this Christmas Eve Pack dinner that had become a tradition for them when they all split for college and jobs and life, coming back for the holidays and catching up for a meal, it was obvious to him that they weren't just a Pack of loose ends tied together. It was a gathering of couples, of pairs that had been formed over the past seven years or so of knowing one another.

Lydia and Parrish. Scott and Allison. Boyd and Erica. Malia and Kira. Isaac and Jackson. Danny and Ethan. Aiden and a female wolf he'd met while traveling the country with his twin and his twin's boyfriend. Yeah, the only odd ones out at that point were Derek and Stiles and that wasn't something the wolf was about to ruminate on.

Not when it meant having to face something he'd continuously put off over and over and over again during the near decade of knowing the guy.

Shoving that aside, he brought his attention back to the redhead in charge, their hostess in the emerald green dress who was currently standing in front of a large pot of something currently situated on two metal racks. _Risgrynsgröt_ , he reminded himself, trying to wrack his brain to figure out if it was something he'd heard of before, if it was something that he as a supernatural creature should be wary of.

He briefly wondered if he'd get away with taking out the iPhone Stiles had forced onto him the year before so he could check the PDF copy of the Bestiary that had been preloaded onto it, only to remember that Lydia had taken all the phones upon entry, declaring it was a device free night—aside from the one she currently had hooked up to a bluetooth speaker as it played Christmas music in the background at the perfect volume to be heard by the humans but not too loud to the point where conversation couldn't happen.

“It's basically a rice porridge,” Lydia went on, smiling in that haughty way of hers that appeared when she knew something that others didn't and she had the opportunity to show off her knowledge. “It originates in Sweden and Denmark and tradition states that whoever finds the almond in their bowl shall be married within the year.” At that, she held up one of the nuts in question, showing it off so that everyone could see it before dropping it into the pot. Picking up a ladle, she began stirring as she explained the ingredients and the history behind it, the words fading into a buzz as Derek's mind drifted off.

It was no secret that Lydia had been hinting for Parrish to propose for a while now, that most of the Pack were now around twenty-three and twenty-four and therefore “marrying age”. Derek himself was pushing thirty and honestly had given no thought to getting hitched, settling down and starting a family, two kids, white picket fence, the whole stereotype that Lydia was currently aiming for.

It wasn't that he had anything against that. At one point, he'd even had dreams of it for himself, back when he was younger and naïve and the world hadn't fucked him over so bad. But then Paige happened, then Kate, his family, Jennifer. He and Braden had fizzled into nothing—although he honestly wasn't entirely sure if they'd ever been anything beyond fuck-buddies—and while he hadn't given up on relationships entirely, he just hadn't had one in a while. He'd gone on a few dates, had a few hook-ups, but nothing ever evolved into a second meeting.

No mystery about why, he mentally grumbled, eyes drifting to the only other single person at the table.

Stiles had grown into himself over the years, no longer the awkward gawky newborn deer on too long limbs. His shoulders had broadened, muscles developed, baby fat melted away. The graphic tees and flannel shirts of high school had been replaced by button downs and polos that actually fit—when he wasn't in his sheriff deputy uniform, of course—and right at that moment, he was dressed in a maroon v-neck sweater that hugged his frame perfectly, rather than a tacky Christmas themed one he would've worn back in college.

He'd always been good looking, something that had led Derek down a few dark pathways in his mind when he was forced to remind himself that Stiles was jailbait and off-limits. But now he was legal, an adult, and fucking _gorgeous_ to the point it ached to look at him. Fantasies had evolved from what Stiles would look like on his knees with Derek's cock in his mouth to waking up next to those too long lashes on a pale cheek, mussy brown hair on Derek's pillow, that soft smile greeting him. Sure, he still thought about fucking the guy into the mattress—or the couch or the counter or whatever surface Stiles happened to be standing by at that moment—but now Derek was also imagining taking him to whatever movie he was rambling about at that moment, holding his hand, kissing him goodnight. Hell, at that moment, Derek was wishing he was next to the guy, his arm on the back of Stiles' chair or his shoulder, held hands on the table, absently playing with his hair, any of the other little things displayed by the other couples around him.

As if he knew he was being thought of, Stiles turned his head and peered down the table, catching Derek staring. The wolf inhaled sharply at being busted, at the glittering of Christmas lights in Stiles' whiskey eyes and for a moment, it was so easy to forget they were surrounded by other people, that other people even existed. No, it was just Derek and Stiles and the stupid face Stiles was pulling at Lydia's speech about her porridge dessert and the superstitious almond.

Derek snorted at how Stiles crossed his eyes and wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue, his goofiness not entirely disappearing as he got older and Lydia cleared her throat pointedly, glaring at them both. Stiles held his hands up in innocence and Derek drank his wine with an air of nonchalance he hadn't earned and Lydia rolled her eyes.

“ _Anyway_ ,” she stated with emphasis, now using the ladle to spoon the porridge into bowls that were passed down each side of the table. “Good luck and enjoy!”

The Pack showcased enough manners to wait until everyone had a share of the dessert in front of them, the pot scraping empty at the end, the almond guaranteed to be in someone's bowl. Then they all snatched up their spoons with varying fervor, digging around the porridge to find the famed almond, making it obvious who was more interested in finding it and getting married than the others.

Derek honestly didn't care. In all actuality, he was more looking forward to eating it than anything else, but considering the fact that everyone seemed to be searching—Stiles included—he would be remiss not to do the same. So he gently stirred around his dessert, the porridge not as thick as its name suggested, as the previous kinds he'd had, and he wondered if it was on purpose. Probably was. Made it easier to stir in the almond and hide it, made it easier to find the damn nut, too. Couldn't really do that in something super thick and chances were you'd only find it by crunching down on it.

“Holy shit.”

The words weren't yelled or announced with any sort of gusto, just breathed out in disbelief in an absent sort of way. But Derek was so attuned to Stiles anytime he was in the general vicinity of the human that his ears picked up on the phrase despite the guy being seated three chairs down and across the table from him, despite the other murmured conversations happening around, conversations that died down as everyone turned their attention to Stiles.

Who was currently staring at his spoon as he held it in the air.

With an almond sitting right on top.

Holy shit indeed.

Scott was the one to break the stunned silence that had descended upon the usually ruckus group, calling out a “congrats, man!” with the kind of gusto he'd always possessed, leaning across the table to pat his best friend on the shoulder. A few similar sentiments rose up from others at the table, Malia throwing out a joke about how it meant that Stiles was finally gonna get some again, Erica cackling in response, Jackson remarking about the true Christmas miracle would be Stilinski actually finding someone who'd wanna fuck his loser ass and making Isaac snort into his own wine. Lydia rolled her eyes at all of them in a way to hide her disappointment at not being the one to find it while Danny and Ethan began a hushed conversation over how it wasn't a guarantee and didn't mean anything and that they didn't see the big deal.

Derek didn't hear any of it. Couldn't really, over the pounding of his heart that was miraculously going unnoticed as all attention seemed to be aimed Stiles' direction as the human put on a big show over the whole thing in his usual sarcastic and joking manner. Derek had to tear his eyes away, hating the fact that his stomach was twisting in jealousy and upset over this stupid superstition. None of it meant anything, he knew this for a fact, yet he still felt as though Stiles had announced an _actual_ engagement.

Fucking dumb.

The whole thing was fucking dumb. The dessert was fucking dumb. He was being fucking dumb.

He shoved a spoonful of it into his mouth, figuring if he at least tasted it then Lydia couldn't get pissed if he skipped out on the rest of the party and headed home early. It was creamier than he imagined, with a mild vanilla taste to it, and it practically melted in his mouth.

Well, most of it did anyway.

Derek's teeth came across something hard and he stopped himself from biting down, almost afraid to. God only knew what was currently in his mouth, mind racing with images of broken plastic or uncooked rice, only...

Only it didn't _taste_ like either of those things.

Glancing around to make sure no one was looking at him, Derek brought his hand to his mouth and slipped out whatever it was he'd nearly bitten, his eyes going wide when he got a good look at it.

There, in his palm, was a whole almond.

What. The fuck.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Derek kept the find to himself, wiping it off on his napkin and shoving it in the pocket of his black slacks. The excitement over Stiles' own almond died down enough for everyone to eat their dessert then help clean up but that didn't stop him from making a goof out the whole thing. He'd found a couple twist ties in the kitchen and fashioned the almond into a ring he wore on his left ring finger, flashing it about like any newly engaged female with serious ring hand, batting his eyes and making joking comments over his “fiance” who couldn't make the party.

The act amused everyone else at the party, especially as the empty bottles of red wine began piling up. Even Lydia got into it, her earlier disappointment dissipating over a party well-thrown, although her slurring words and stumbling steps probably helped. She and Erica began playfully helping Stiles plan his wedding and at one point, Allison removed the fake snow batting from around the base of the tree to put over his head as a veil, the girls loudly and drunkenly yelling out the wedding march with Stiles holding a pot of fake poinsettias as his bouquet.

Derek watched the whole thing from an armchair, everyone else enjoying the party, discussing what songs to play next, arguing over eggnog, dancing, purposefully getting caught under fake mistletoe and giving in to tradition. The glum wolf found himself glad that he'd never been much of a festive one so that his dour behavior didn't stick out as much, bummed that his metabolism didn't allow him to get drunk the way some of the humans were. He wondered why he stuck around, why he was torturing himself, then felt dumb for feeling tortured in the first place. Stiles pretending to be engaged wasn't the worst thing he'd ever dealt with and there was a chance that, should Derek actually have a long life through some miracle, it wouldn't even rank in the top ten.

And yet...

Yet he couldn't help the tightness in his chest at the knowledge that this could be reality one day, that at some point in the future, Stiles was really going to get engaged then married then have kids. He deserved it, after all he'd suffered and been through. He deserved a happy, _normal_ life, deserved to have someone who loved him desperately and fiercely, deserved to have a partner and a family and everything he ever wanted.

Derek's hand slipped into his pocket, fingers curled around the almond he'd somehow found in his dessert, and it hit him that... that really, he was the only one stopping himself, the only thing standing in his own way. He could show Stiles, show everyone that he'd somehow gotten an almond of his own, which would inevitably lead to him being drawn into jokes about how he and Stiles clearly should just get married since they were both fated for it, haha, so funny.

Wouldn't be the first time someone would make a similar joke, would tell them to just get a room or get it over with and fuck already. Derek's experiences with dating and relationships and love were extremely hit or miss but he was pretty sure he hadn't imagined any of the tension between the two of them over the years, the flirting and the come-ons and the not-so-subtle innuendos coming from both of them. Really, the only reasons why things had never really progressed had been Stiles' age, then his moving away for college, then the timing of one or both of them sort of, kind of seeing someone else.

Not anymore though. They were both single, legal, available...

Derek was out of excuses, out of reasons to talk himself out of it. Now or never and even if he'd been misreading shit over the years, at least he would know. He could just excuse himself from the party, lick his wounds in private, then continue on as though nothing had happened. After all, he had a devastating amount of experience with acting as though he was fine and compartmentalizing his heartbreak. What was another scar amongst a thousand others?

Mind made up, he drained his half-empty glass of wine in one gulp then rose to his feet, making his way over to where Lydia, Allison, and Erica were still crowded around Stiles to the side of the living room, in front of one of the two Christmas trees decorating the large open space. The lone male heard him coming, turning bright eyes on Derek, the wide grin he'd been wearing shifting into something warmer, smaller, and Derek had to remind himself to breathe, to put one foot in front of the other and not stumble on his way. He was on a mission now and he'd be damned if anything put him off it, even something like Stiles literally stealing his breath and freezing his lungs.

The girls noticed he was coming and all turned varying curious frowns on him, Lydia's slightly judgmental, Allison's more confused, Erica's with a slightly knowing hint. It honestly wouldn't surprise Derek if she was well-aware of how he felt about Stiles, if she'd known as long as he had, and that she had figured out in that moment what he was about to do.

But rather than addressing his intended target, Derek turned his focus on Lydia, drawing to a stop by the group and pinning her with a curious pull to his own brow. “How many almonds did you put in that porridge?”

“ _Risgrynsgröt_ ,” she corrected and Derek noted Stiles rolling his eyes out the corner of his own. “And only one, as per tradition.” Her brow turned down into a hard V, eyes narrowed as she turned bodily to him with squared shoulders, ready for a fight. “Why?”

He shrugged a shoulder, trying to play it off despite the pounding in his heart that had Erica hiding her smirk behind her wine glass. “Just wondering why there was one in my bowl, when Stiles had already found it,” he stated nonchalantly as he pulled the almond out of his pocket, where it had been practically burning against his thigh all night, a constant reminder of what it represented and what it could mean if he'd just get his shit together and make a move.

Like he was at that moment.

Erica spat her wine out, Lydia scowled at the almond as though its very existence offended her, Allison tilted her head as she narrowed her eyes and parted her lips in confusion, and Stiles inhaled sharply, his heart racing even faster and harder than Derek's. Without saying a word, he grabbed the wolf's wrist and dragged him out the room, ignoring Lydia's loud objections and demands to know where Derek had stolen that almond from.

They didn't stop until Stiles had pulled them out onto the front porch, the music and conversation muffled as the door shut. The air outside was nippy, even to the werewolf, and he almost offered to go inside and grab Stiles' coat for him, only for the look on the human's face to stop him. The white lights wrapped around the columns and railings were their only illumination, playing off his pale skin, shining in eyes that were wide with hope and disbelief. He raised the wrist he was still gripping, the hand still holding on to the almond Derek had found, then lifted his own left hand as though making sure his own was still there.

Yup. Still attached to the makeshift ring.

Satisfied but still confused, chemosignals all over the place and hard to tap down, Stiles met Derek's eyes and the wolf struggled to remember a time when the human had actually been afraid of that, way back in the first few months after they'd met and the then sixteen year old had turned him into a murder suspect—twice.

Hell, even back then Stiles hadn't been _entirely_ afraid, still getting in Derek's face, telling him off, insulting and arguing despite threats involving his pale throat and Derek's sharp teeth.

“Did you—I mean, yeah, no, I was right. You found—you did, didn't you?”

It was typical Stiles rambling, the words jumbled in his head and fighting to get out at the same time. But years of experience and practice meant Derek was a good translator, could figure out what he meant with no struggle, could know what he was gonna say before he even opened his mouth.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, watching as the words coalesced into steam that swirled and danced between them. It looked as fragile as the moment felt and Derek's shaky lungs could barely take in any air. He felt as though his heart was too loud, beating too hard, about to break them both, and he held himself as still as possible so he didn't disturb what was happening, what could happen if they'd let it.

Stiles nodded with his lips pressed together, eyes flitting about, leg shaking. His scent was sour with anxiety and nerves, his heart just as loud and as fast as Derek's and the wolf didn't think before he took a step closer, entangling his fingers with Stiles' free hand, the one wearing that ridiculous almond-and-twist-tie ring. He lifted it up then pressed his forehead against Stiles', breathing in the wine on his breath and the natural musk of his skin.

“If I didn't think Lydia would kill me,” he began softly, lowly, carefully, still aware that this moment, that things between them were still as fragile as freshly formed icicle. “And if I had it on me, I'd replace that almond ring with something real and more meaningful.”

Stiles inhaled sharply again, exhaled shakily, his scent shifting to something warm and hopeful and desirous. “So. You tellin' me that this superstition is true?” His smile was tremulous, a clear sign that he was trying to keep things light and joking, playing it off as a gag in his usual defensive manner.

But Derek was having none of it, tilting his head so his lips were mere millimeters away, brushing against Stiles' as he spoke. “If you'll have me.”

A laugh gusted against his mouth, warm and soft and full of life, like Stiles himself. “Pretty sure we've had each other for years now. We were both too stubborn to admit it.” With that, he released the wrist he'd been keeping hold of in favor of wrapping his arm around Derek's shoulders and moved his head the microscopic amount needed to press their lips together.

It wasn't fireworks or waves crashing or volcanoes erupting, yet it still stole the air from Derek's lips and breathed life into him all at once. He was always gonna be scarred, charred over, a sour wolf with a history of pain and angst and a backstory that seemed like it was written by a shitty showrunner with a personal vendetta against him, but he was loved by the one he loved and his future looked far more promising that he ever could've let himself imagine.

A scream coming from inside the house broke their kiss and Derek's head snapped to the front door, stretching his ears in order to try and figure out what had happened, who had attacked, what death Lydia had just predicted. But then Stiles chuckled lowly, drawing him back to find a wide grin and sparkling eyes.

“We better keep any engagement news to ourselves for a while or else Lydia will kill us for stealing thunder from her own,” he stated with a knowing tint to the words and Derek realized that he'd been in the know about Parrish's planned proposal for a while now.

“Fine by me,” he replied before returning his lips to where they belonged: pressed against Stiles as he held the human close and kissed him the way he should have been for years now.

Lights twinkled around them, _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ began blaring from inside, snow gently fell but didn't stick, and Derek lost himself in the love of his life, almond sitting forgotten about in the palm of his hand.


End file.
